Doughnut Holes
by kendrickcamps
Summary: Beca takes Aubrey to meet Kommissar and the inevitable happens.


_**A/N:** **I wrote this two years ago and figured I'd publish it before I completely forgot about it. Expect some more Pitch Perfect fanfiction from me in the near-ish future. Maybe.  
The prompt was from Tumblr and is, and I quote: Becaubrissar (did I spell that right?) promt: Beca takes Aubrey to meet Kommissar and aubrey is like "dAMN SON" and beca is like "I fuckin know right" meanwhile Kommissar is just smiling and being frustrating as she gets eye fucked by the two girls**_

* * *

"Why are you making me do this right now?"

It was dark, and the lack of any decent light made Aubrey feel like she was in a horror movie with an ax murderer waiting for her at the end of the hallway.

"Aubrey, I promise it's okay," Beca attempted to reassure the taller blonde, tugging her down the hotel corridor by her forearm. "She doesn't bite and I'm sure she'd love to meet you."

"She's a strange foreign woman that you barely know and it's like, 2:30 in the morning," Aubrey countered. Not only was she unsure of whether or not to be suspicious and possibly frightened. She didn't understand why anyone would've wanted to meet her, of all people, or why they would want to meet her when they could be sleeping, when _she_ could be sleeping.

"I've slept with her twice, she's not that –" Beca halted, both in the middle of her sentence and in the middle of the hallway. Even just _talking_ about Kommissar left her without a filter. "I didn't just say that."

"Jesus Christ, Beca!" Aubrey exclaimed in a hushed tone, being mindful of how close they were to hotel guests who were more than likely asleep. She pulled her arm out of Beca's grasp and placed her hand on her hip. "Twice? And you've known her for how long? Do you know what that makes you look like?" Aubrey was _anything_ but impressed.

"Longer than you think," Beca spoke sharply, being reminded why her freshman year of college was so difficult. Why she _still_ had to defend herself to Aubrey, even after three years without her constant judgment and criticism, was beyond her. Never did she think she was going to relive many of her days as a freshman Barden Bella. "No one knows about this but you and Chloe, so it doesn't make me look like anything."

"Whatever." Aubrey rolled her eyes. Her exhaustion was taking a toll on her patience. "Just take us to," Aubrey paused. Her patience wasn't the only thing her lack of sleep was affecting. "What did you say her name was? Kom–"

"It's actually Luisa," Beca cut Aubrey off before she had the chance to butcher Kommissar's name like any of the other Bellas did, "but she goes by Kommissar."

"Why Kommissar? I'm almost certain it means 'commissioner' in German." Aubrey's brows wrinkled in confusion. Her father taught her a fair amount of German when she was younger and 'Kommissar' was something she remembered him repeating often.

"Yeah, and I'm not sure." Beca shrugged. Two in the morning was not the best time for Beca to over think things. "Come on," Beca began, reaching out for Aubrey's arm in the dimly lit hallway, "let's go."

Aubrey shuffled in her flip flops across the carpet, following Beca down the hallway until they approached a room with a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door handle. At least it's what the girls could assume it said considering the words, like on almost every sign in the city, were in Danish.

"Is this it?" Aubrey questioned, poking at the plastic sign. "I feel like this means keep out." Deductive reasoning and context clues were always two of Aubrey's strong suits.

"No, it doesn't," Beca responded quietly, then knocked three times on the center of the door. She stepped back and stared at the 521 (the _only_ thing Beca could read in the hotel) on the wall next to the doorway until she heard the muffled sound of a deadbolt unlatching.

Aubrey's jaw dropped as the door creaked open, revealing Kommissar, who was clad in a black, _very_ form fitting wife beater tank top and black and blue boy shorts. The bright light coming from behind her gave the loose waves of hair that laid on her shoulders a golden, luminescent sun bleached blonde color, similar to Aubrey's, but almost angelic looking.

"I didn't know you were bringing someone with you, tiny Maus. I would have put on more clothes." Kommissar flashed a toothy grin at the petite American a cappella singer and winked, opening the door a little bit more. "Who is your friend?"

"Oh, this is Aubrey. Aubrey Posen. The one I've been telling you about?" Beca spoke, gesturing to Aubrey whose mouth was still agape.

"Ah, yes! You did not tell me her last name was Posen. Es ist eine Deutsche Nachname, ja?" Kommissar directed her question towards Aubrey.

"I… um…" Aubrey stuttered, attempting to take in all of Kommissar's beauty and form a coherent sentence, but she was at a loss for words, which came as a shock to her. Aubrey Posen _always_ had something to say.

"Your last name, it is German, ja?" Kommissar repeated in English, fiddling with the plastic sign that still hung from the door handle.

Aubrey blinked a few times. Color flooded her cheeks as her brain began to flood with Beca-esque responses.

"Aubrey," Beca whispered, nudging Aubrey in the side with her elbow. "Use your words, dude."

"Oh, um, yes. Yes, it is," Aubrey cleared her throat, responding with the little amount of words she could come up with. A slight grin crawled across her lips at the fact that the giant goddess of a German woman knew her last name was German. (Of course she knew it was German. Kommissar was _very_ German.)

Kommissar nodded and backed into the well lit room, disappearing through a doorway immediately inside her hotel room.

"Well come on in, you Donut Löcher," Kommissar invited the girls into her hotel room from around the corner.

Beca shot a confused glare at Aubrey, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders in astonishment.

"What the hell was that?" Beca couldn't believe, of all people, that Aubrey would let her guard down in front of Kommissar. Of course, Beca wasn't one to talk since she seemed to be a professional at saying things she only ended up _kind of_ regretting in front of Kommissar.

Aubrey pressed her fingertips against her temples, sighing. She had no problem talking to almost _anyone_ she came in contact with, no matter how attractive they were. The fact that she could barely form words around Kommissar completely blew her mind.

"I see what you mean," Aubrey mumbled, covering her face with her hands.

"Right?" Beca responded almost immediately. "You should've heard me in that a cappella guy's basement."

"Chloe told me about that." Aubrey grinned sympathetically, resting her hand on Beca's shoulder. She never thought she would be able to relate to the alt girl with the mad lib beats who didn't know a cappella was "a thing". "We should probably go in there."

"It's quarter til three in the morning, that might be a good idea." Beca was quick to agree, mostly because she knew how agitated and impatient Kommissar could get.

"Hey, Beca?" Aubrey spoke softly as they started towards the door.

"Hmm?"

"I'm pretty sure she just called us doughnut holes."


End file.
